


Hosting a Thrill

by LamiasLuck



Series: A Day in the Life (Ego Stories) [11]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Assassination, Blood and Violence, Gen, Host can control people with narrations, Kinda?, Mind Control, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiasLuck/pseuds/LamiasLuck
Summary: Dark needs someone gone. Fast. Being the perfectly moral man that he is, he immediately asks someone to "take care" of this someone. So he asks the Host because he's usually calm and collected, right? Well, not quite... As it turns out, even the Host has something darker hiding behind that composed attitude.





	Hosting a Thrill

The sound of fingernails against a table echoed throughout the dark room. A low buzz of radio equipment rang in the Host’s ears as he thought to himself. As much as he would like to tell another story, he knew he would be busy. He was waiting. His narrations told him that he had work to do.

From outside his office, he heard the door creak open and soon after footsteps echoed within the silent library. 

Right on time. 

Dark walked into his office without warning. His aura dimly lit up the room and showed his form, eyes shining dangerously as he stared at the man sitting by his desk. The Host merely smiled at him.

“Good evening.” There was a hint of playfulness in the Host’s voice as he continued to smile, tilting his head slightly. “How has Dark been faring?”

“Fine.” Unlike the Host, Dark was clearly impatient. He snapped his fingers and a file appeared in his hand. He threw the papers on the desk. “I have a job for you.”

“Does he now?” He hummed to himself, not bothering to pick up the documents. “Alexander Winston. He has been troubling Dark as of late. How interesting… is he that bothersome that Dark needs him gone?”

“Just deal with it.”

“Of course. Consider the problem already dealt with.”

Dark left without another word, which is usually how their conferences play out. The Host leaned back into his chair and finally took the files. Even the penmanship had an angry air to it, hastily written down in a clear rush. It might as well be a death certificate. He didn’t care about the reasons why Alexander deserved to die, but it was interesting that Dark wanted  _ him  _ to deal with this issue. Whatever Alexander did, he must’ve been a real prick to deserve this treatment. A simple bullet or knife wouldn’t do the trick it seems. Well, at least he could have his fun. It  _ has  _ been a while.

His metal bat felt familiar in his hands as he made his way out of the manor. As soon as the others heard the dull sound of him dragging the weapon across the floor, they knew to stay away. He rarely left his library, only leaving for the necessities and for times like this. With his bat that held more history than some of the younger egos and a small, but eager smile plastered on his face. He set off in a beeline to his target.

Fate decided to give an open welcome to the Host’s reemergence. Alexander was currently in an alleyway having his routinely smoke break and life reflection. Completely alone. A fast pass to the fun part, so it seems.

The air outside was muggy, but the Host still managed to make out the smell of cigarette smoke. He muttered about his surroundings quietly to himself. Soon enough, he found Alexander leaning against the wall. Understandably the visual of a looming man with bleeding eyes walking towards him freaked him out. Alexander dropped his cigarette and glared at the Host.

“What the fu-”

“Stand still.” The Host’s calm tone made Alexander stand frigid in place. No matter how much the other wanted to run away, an unforeseen force kept him in place as the Host stood in front of him.

“Who… who the fuck are you?!” 

“A messenger. Now, shut up.” Similar to his first command, Alexander’s mouth clamped shut. The only noise he could make were muffled screams, far too quiet for anyone to hear. “Out of all the people to mess with, Dark shouldn’t be on that list.” Alexander’s eyes widened in fear. His muffled screams became more frantic, but the Host didn’t pay any mind. “If Alexander didn’t get that message, then the Host is happy to teach him.”

The Host paced in front of Alexander, humming to himself. His mind buzzed with different possibilities of what to do, but for the most part, he was debating his options. Use his words or his bat? He could settle with a mix of both, however, that didn’t seem right for this case. There was a morbid  _ want  _ for something else. A want for something slower, more painful.  _ More fun.  _ His bat beckoned to satisfy that want.

“Life’s a gamble. It’s not the Host’s fault Alexander got a bad deal,” he punctuated his next point by hitting his free hand with his bat and gripping it, “It’s only his job to deal with the toll.”

One swing of his bat had Alexander crying even as he was forced to stand still. It wasn’t much, a hardy hit to the side may break a few ribs but it won’t kill. Then the next hit, one right in his abdomen. The dull thud rang in his ears, but rippled through his soul. He let out a breathy laugh at the display while spinning his bat with one hand. It felt too natural for someone as supposedly composed as him, yet here he was.

After a couple more hits, the Host got into the swing of things. His movements were fluid and calculated. Muttered narrations were drowned out by the sounds of muffled sobs and metal colliding with flesh. None of it mattered, he didn’t need his narrations to tell him about the bruises being formed, nor the bones being shattered under the force of his bat. What mattered was the  _ thrill. _

Like a hunter that finally cornered their prey, the Host found victory in their demise. Senseless killing wasn’t his forte surprisingly. Good thing, he managed to justify this situation in that jumbled head of his. It wasn’t senseless in his mind. If this man was going to die anyways, what’s the harm in having a little fun with it? Dark wasn’t going to let Alexander go. Whether or not Wilford shot him or the Host beat him mattered not in the long run. 

Now out of breath, the Host slung his bat over his shoulder and paused to admire his work. Alexander was still alive. Miraculously stuck standing despite his body begging to fall. He was breathing heavily through his nose and barely looked conscious, blinking in slow intervals. Occasionally he coughed, or tried to since his mouth was still forced shut. Eventually the Host noticed a small bit of blood spill out of his mouth.

“Alexander found himself able to speak again.” 

In an instant Alexander went into a coughing fit, hacking up the blood he was forced to keep in his mouth. He rivaled the Host with how much blood he let out. Good thing his attacker made sure to stand back. 

“A minor concussion, internal bleeding…” the Host listed while twirling his bat, “broken arms, a leg, and a couple ribs. How quaint.”

“Pl-Please… stop…” Alexander whimpered, voice barely strong enough to be heard. “I get it… I-I won’t bother anyone anymore… please…”

“The Host is glad Alexander understands. He’s certain that he won’t bother Dark from now on.”

“Yes, yes I’m sorry! Please… let-let me go-”

“Die.” 

Alexander choked on his words and fell to the ground. A look of terror was permanently fixed on his face as he laid there in his own blood. 

The Host hummed contently and poked the body with his bat, laughing when there was no response. Gradually, his adrenaline died down and he became more aware of his situation. Blood flowed down his face from overexertion and his arms ached from his physical work. A headache made his head pound, another side effect to his powers. Yet none of it mattered. 

That satisfied smile wasn’t going away anytime soon. The Host walked away from the scene without a care in the world. Cleanup wasn’t apart of his job anyways. 

Once the Host made in back to the manor, he noticed the others startled gazes. A disheveled, panting Host must be an alarming sight to see he supposed. The blood on his clothes and bat has long since dried so he didn’t bother to worry about tracking blood in Dark’s pristine office. He felt the entity’s cold stare as soon as he opened the door.

“The Host was successful.” He broke the silence with a smug attitude.

Dark rolled his eyes and paused his work. He set his pen down from his paperwork and cracked his neck. “Was there any problems?”

“None at all." The Host laughed to himself as he thought back to what he did. He slung his bat over his shoulder, shining a bright smile. "If Dark ever needs another man to do a job like this, feel free to call the Host again. He will be delighted to be of assistance.” 

Dark grimaced. That smile reminded him too much of a past he thought the other left behind. He supposed no one could fully change, could they?

“You’re dismissed.” Dark waved him off. “Rest easy today. Tomorrow I may give you another job… Google’s been giving me problems lately.”

The Host snickered, already turning his heel and walking away. And so it was written in stone. “It’s a pleasure.”

After changing into cleaner clothes and cleaning up in general, the Host bunkered himself away in his library again. This ordeal inspired a plethora of stories that could carry on the fun. The low buzz of his radio beckoned him. So he sat down at his desk and put on his headphones. He got ready to tell a new story.

_ The story of the man that never got the message. _

**Author's Note:**

> Are you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shit? 
> 
> I would have used that for the summary but I’m a coward. Either way, that’s how I wrote Host here. I think he’d snap from time to time, but compared to the others he’s pretty self controlled y’know? Kinda acts like Author but let’s ignore that! In one of my other stories, Another Pawn, I used the same “Dark wants Host to kill someone” scenario, but in that plot Host didn’t want to kill people. Here he’s pretty chill about it. 
> 
> Also, imagine Eric accidentally bumping into Host like in Another Pawn, but it's this scary Host? Nice.
> 
> Tumblr: LamiasLuck (send requests pls!)


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